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Not About You – the morning after
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Urahara loved whatever he was smelling. It smelled familiar and new, clean and erotic.
Then his brain kicked in with a huge message in bold: You Are Going To Hell.
And, to emphasize the point, his conscience drew a thick line under the sentence. You Are Going To Hell.
Urahara Kisuke opened his eyes to a mass of soft orange hair. Years of practice meant he could maintain his lax breathing pattern even while he panicked inwardly.
I slept with him. I slept with Isshin's son! I am so very, very dead.
Note to self: do NOT let Isshin know.
I wish Ichigo wouldn't shift his legs... oh god. He's not awake, not yet. Is there a way out of this?
Look at how the morning light brings out the color of his hair. And his bare shoulder... I want to nibble on him...
Bad, bad Kisuke. Down, boy.
I said DOWN.
Shit.
Shit, he is going to kill me.
Ichigo sighed and Urahara shut off his groan. He had a growing problem and there was no way he could untangle himself from Ichigo without waking him up. Wait. Ichigo was awake already. And he was twisting around in his arms to examine Urahara.
Was that shock in his eyes? Or happiness? Or murderous intent?
Despite the worries that flashed through Urahara's mind, he nevertheless had to lean in to kiss the younger man. His stubbled chin scratched against smooth skin – skin that Urahara wanted to touch and explore again, without the haze of alcohol dulling his senses – and Ichigo stiffened when the older man muttered a 'good morning'.
Urahara drew back. No, it had been a mistake last night. He saw that now.
He had given in to his confused feelings about Sousuke. He misinterpreted the look the young man gave him, and, Ichigo being Ichigo, let Urahara pour out his catharsis freely into him.
Sometimes Ichigo was just too kind.
"Good morning," said Ichigo hoarsely. He turned away, clearly embarrassed. "Um..."
"It's alright, Ichigo." Urahara sighed and shuffled to the edge of his futon, pulling on his pants they had discarded by the side. He needed the shower now. "We'll talk later. If you want."
"Y-yeah."
Urahara didn't miss seeing how his lessee tugged the sheets closer about his frame, as if he was again a shy fifteen-year-old.
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As the tepid water rushed over him Urahara tried not to recall how pliant and willing that taut body had been last night. The hungry gaze as Urahara licked along the arms, sucked on the strong fingers; the lean thighs that parted under his urging and curled around him; that tight, incredible heat.
"Fuck," Urahara murmured. He was feeling lightheaded and not just from alcohol.
He could picture Ichigo right now, naked and wet and kneeling before him, taking Urahara into his mouth. He could feel that tongue that had fought for dominance on his most sensitive skin. He could hear the moans and half-choked gasps from that throat that begged to be sucked.
"Fuck..." The climax came quickly, Urahara's imaginative mind more than capable of producing some truly graphic visuals. "Ichigo... Ichigo. Damn..."
The post-climax glow allowed thoughts to drift across his usually well-ordered mind.
It had been a good few years since Urahara was this affected by anyone physically. All the while he had been contented with his experiments, his toys and inventions. Occasionally he and Yoruichi engaged in some play, but she was a free spirit and he was happy to let her wander as much as she pleased.
The only other person who had had the capability to reduce Urahara to pure physical lust was Aizen Sousuke. God, the fire they had shared... None of his other lovers ever came close to it. Aizen probably found a better one in Ichimaru, but Urahara knew Aizen craved an equal more than an adoring slave in bed. Sometimes the brunet had even desired to be forced into submission.
And he was gone now, gone forever. Aizen and Ichimaru, both.
The thought was the ice-cold shower Urahara needed. Ardor fled instantly.
"Damn you, Sou," Urahara groaned as he leaned his head on the tile, finally turning off the taps. "Damn you to hell. Damn you to hell."
And the tears came, hard and fast and quietly. They splashed soundlessly to the tiled floor, disappearing into the wetness. Like how Aizen Sousuke had left his life. Only someone who was in the shower with Urahara would have seen him cursing Aizen for not even saying goodbye.
Gradually Urahara regained his control. At the sink, he washed his face thoroughly, making sure the reddened eyes were not too obvious. He had other problems to deal with.
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When he returned to his room Ichigo was still there.
That was a surprise. Urahara thought that Ichigo would skitter off to his own room and never see his landlord alone again. Once again, he was mistaken.
At least the young man was washed and dressed. He shifted uncomfortably. Urahara wondered if he had hurt Ichigo last night, then decided that Ichigo probably was just too sore. Or perhaps too angry.
"About last night-" began the older man, but was cut off by fiercely tender brown eyes.
Ichigo got to his feet, his natural grace slightly stilted. "About last night."
Urahara shifted, then squared his shoulders. He deserved whatever Ichigo wanted to do to him. The blond took a deep breath and rushed headlong into his apology. "I'm sorry, I gave in to temptation, I was feeling really shitfucked and you were there, and then you didn't turn away so I assumed... If you wish to leave, move out, whatever, I'll help."
Ichigo stared at him. "What are you talking about?" he managed to ask eventually. Urahara raised his brows. Ichigo folded his arms over his chest and said, "Are you that eager to get rid of me? You really hate me that much that you want me gone?"
"What? No!" Aghast, Urahara's protest shot out immediately.
"Then why are you telling me to go?"
"I just – I thought... you're... you're okay with last night?"
Ichigo shrugged. "It's confusing... but I'm pretty alright with it. Which is - sorta - confusing in itself. And I just want to know if..." the orange-haired youth chewed on his lower lip. "Were you serious?"
Urahara's heart skipped a beat. The answer took a long time in coming. "Yes."
"Then I guess..." Ichigo nibbled his upper lip now. "I'm just... wondering if... if you can give me some time to think about... about us?"
The shopkeeper nodded silently. It was a reasonable request. Then he frowned. "You just said... Ichigo, are we 'us'?"
Ichigo scratched the back of his head. "Eh well.. it's not like I'm okay with casual sex, and we did... um, you know... and... well, long answer short. I'd want there to be an 'us', if you're okay with it."
Urahara swallowed. He had not committed himself to anyone for a long, long time. Not even to Yoruichi or Sousuke, despite both of them being equally important to him. He mulled over the suggestion, aware that Ichigo was probably confused and nervous, and was yet still brave enough to open the way to his heart.
Perhaps it was time for Urahara to stop his roaming and find a place to rest.
"I..." started Urahara, but he didn't continue. He inhaled strongly and said, "I think I'll be okay with it."
Ichigo's eyes narrowed. Then his face relaxed. "I suppose that's the best from you right now then. I gotta go."
Urahara felt bad for the young man. But the ghosts of his memory nipped at his heels, and Urahara soured to recall the times Sousuke had taken him in again after Urahara abandoned the brunet for Yoruichi. The increasingly-familiar guilt surfaced. Was Urahara ready to settle?
His reluctance to do so had indirectly shut off Sousuke's ability to empathize. Urahara knew Ichigo would scoff and call him self-centered for thinking in such a way, but Urahara knew that Aizen Sousuke was dedicated to causes and he, Urahara Kisuke, had been such a cause once.
Had he been a smidgen more loyal, had he owned the capability to be monogamous, had he been satisfied with one man who was a match for his intellect and his libido, then Aizen would have been a powerful captain, loyal and devoted to the Gotei. Gin would have been just another shinigami, smart, eccentric, happy with his lot in life.
Perhaps not as happy as they had been after they found each other, but happy enough.
They would still be alive. That was important. That was the most important.
But then Urahara wouldn't have met Ururu and Jinta. He couldn't have experienced all that he had since exiled to the human world. And he definitely wouldn't have had an unforgettable night with the youth now striding past him and out of the shoten's main door.
"Damn." Urahara kicked futilely at the door frame. Ichigo was upset, and understandably so. Urahara hadn't wanted to lie to him though. He had lied before, fooled too many people, and one by one these webs were being torn apart.
He has had enough of lies and illusions.